Economist, Fayetteville, Arkansas
The snow was drifting in the street
and frost was in the air
When Kaspar pulled the shutters tight
and settled in his chair,
While Peterkin and Wilhelmine
Warmed up the television screen.
They saw a gang of men invade
A big department store
And force the customers inside
To lie upon the floor,
While clerks were made to open tills
And package crumpled dollar bills.
“Is that a gang of robbers there?”
The little children cried.
“They say they’re Profit-Sharing now,”
Old Kaspar soon replied.
“They’ll leave enough to run the store
Until they come around for more.”
“Those crumpled bills,” said Peterkin,
“Look old and all defaced.”
“They dare not take,” Old Kaspar sighed,
“A bill that could be traced.
A man without a union card
Finds profit-sharing lean and hard.”
“Do unions have a better plan?”
Asked little Wilhelmine.
“The unions have the legal right
To strip the coffers clean.
That’s why they seldom have to shoot
To get possession of the loot.”
“Why don’t these men join unions then?”
Asked little Peterkin.
“The union bosses,” Kaspar smiled,
“Refuse to take them in.
The unions can’t afford to look
Like havens for a thief or crook.”
